Well I Say, Jackpot
by Agni xx
Summary: A series of drabbles and episode tags with various character appearances. Possible spoilers! Chapter 3: Castiel returns from death. Tag to 5x01. Characters aren't mine.
1. TAG, The Real Ghostbusters

Title: In which Sam finds humor in Dean's plight

Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Castiel/none

Warnings: **tag to 5.09 "The Real Ghostbusters", slight spoilers** (maybe?)

Genre: humor/general

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke, unfortunate authors like myself can only borrow them.

**

* * *

**

Dean and Sam finally managed to push their way through the crowd of people – a sea of corduroy and denim that looked so damn familiar it was making Dean sick, to the doors.

"I'm – going – to – _kill him!_" the elder Winchester raged as soon as he made it safely through the doors of the convention hall, sucking in a deep dramatic gasp of air.

Sam made a choking noise beside him and the doubled over with his hands resting against his knees as his shoulders shook with laughter.

"Dude, you think this is _funny?_" Dean shot his brother an incredulous look. "This is like attack of the clones meets stranger than fiction meets _crazy_ and you're _laughing!_"

"No," Sam said seriously. "I don't think it's funny." He paused as Dean eyed him questioningly. "I think it's _hilarious!_ You should've seen your face!" He doubled over again, laughing.

There was a rustle of wings and suddenly Castiel stood with them. His expression was solemn as always but it melted into a look of familiar confusion as he observed the Winchester brothers, Sam shaking with laughter and Dean glaring sharply at his back.

"I – what's going on?" the angel asked, curiosity overriding his current news at the moment. He tilted his head and looked to Dean for an answer. "Is Sam alright?" he glanced worriedly at the younger brother.

"Sam's sick," Dean growled with a shake of his head.

Castiel, confused at Dean's apparent lack of concern at his own words, turned questioning blue eyes on Dean. "He isn't well?" he frowned in thought, "What happened?"

Sam chuckled once more and then shook his head, looking up to meet the angel's eyes. "I'm fine, Cas." He said. "Dean's just grumpy because there's a whole room full of people pretending to be him – well, _us_ – in that building." He pointed a lazy thumb behind him at the convention center Chuck had led them to.

"And you're not?" Dean interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "You've officially reached a whole new level of freaky, Sammy."

Castiel was looking between the two brothers, looking even more confused than he had been when he arrived. Finally his eyes settled on Dean and he asked in the same serious tone he used to declare that Lucifer was free and running about, "There are people pretending to be you?" He tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"

"_Chuck_." Dean growled in answer. "I'm going to kill him," he swore. "Archangel security system be damned."

Castiel's brow furrowed disapprovingly before he turned to look at Sam for verification. The younger Winchester just shrugged.

"He isn't taking the attention too well," he said helpfully.

Another tilt of the head.

"Why not?" the angel asked in earnest confusion. "Why would people not want to be Dean?"

Sam managed to choke down the laughter that threatened to spill from his lips. "You're kidding, right?"

Dean glared at him.

"Why not?" Castiel said again. "Dean is a righteous man," he deadpanned. "He's the one who is destined to stop Lucifer." He blinked, considering and finally added. "He's Michael's true vessel."

"Gee, thanks, Cas." Dean quipped.

"You're welcome."

Sam made a strangled noise of mirth that caused both Dean and Castiel to look at him in alarm. For the second time in a short time Sam collapsed into a fit of laughter, his hulking shoulders shaking in mirth.

Dean continued glaring; Castiel just looked on in confusion.

"What?" They both asked in unison.

"Hah!" Sam snorted, losing his words to laughter again. It took several moments before he could straighten and look up at the two of them, angel and human standing side by side. Fighting to keep his amusement at bay, he said,

"Hey, Dean," he said to his brother with a snicker. "It looks like Cas is your original fangirl!"

_fin.

* * *

_

**A/N: Hey there everyone! This is my first venture into the world of Supernatural fanfiction, or well, _published _Supernatural fanfiction anyway, so go easy on me, mmkay? (Also, excuse me if the writing is poor, trying to write coherently while listening to your teacher drone on about politics is more difficult than it sounds.) **

**So this here is the first installment in a series of drabbles I've planned that are mostly just episode tags. I've got four others written all for various episodes from season five, let me know if you'd like to see more! Reviews are loved! **

**Agni  
**


	2. TAG, Lucifer Rising

Title: This Is How It Ends

Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Raphael/none

Warnings: none

Summary: episode tag to 4.24, the showdown between Cas and Raphael. There are two parts to this, the second one will most likely be up tomorrow, as it's already written, it just needs to be typed. I thought it would do better broken into two halves.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

The room was shaking, dislodging objects from the shelves and every other available surface under the strain of the approaching Archangel. A burning heavenly light filled the sky, brightening the room and Castiel felt the first trembling in his soul. It wasn't difficult to mask his fear in front of Dean, not when he had still been running on the rush of adrenaline that came with making his own decision, but the moment Dean disappeared and left him alone with only the human Prophet Chuck, his stony resolve wavered in the face of the coming threat.

He had done the right thing, he told himself. He had.

He had to believe that. Castiel had found it increasingly difficult to argue with Dean's word – that the Apocalypse was wrong, that if there was anything worth dying for, it was this – especially when he felt deep in his soul that the hunter was right. He had had doubts about his orders from the moment he'd received them – something that was becoming more and more of a common occurrence lately – Dean had only served to reinforce those doubts and push him into action.

After all, what better human to believe than a righteous one, one chosen personally by God to be raised from Perdition for specifically this purpose?

The thought strengthened Castiel's diminishing resolve and bolstered his confidence. He lifted his head and faced his oncoming fate with grim determination.

Death was unlike he would have imagined it to be. The shaking intensified and the holy light grew to consume every shadowy corner in the prophet's house. The prophet himself was trembling beside him but he had nothing to fear from this – the coming Archangel was, after all, coming to protect him.

But Castiel forgot about Chuck the moment the Archangel exploded into the room with a violent thrust of his wings. Every window in the dwelling exploded in a shower of glass as the angel touched down, sparks erupting from blown light bulbs rained down around them and Castiel was struck for a moment with the familiarity of the other angel's entrance; he had one moment to recognize the face of the Archangel – Raphael – before Heaven's divine thunder tore him to pieces.

It lasted both a second and a lifetime. Chuck probably saw nothing but his vessel fill with light until it was full to bursting, or he was struck with awe at the power and radiance of an Archangel bursting into his living room. But Castiel had no time to think of Chuck, he had his own death to consider.

The force of the Archangel's wrathful justice filled him with the warmth of Heaven's love even as it tore his mortal vessel – _Jimmy Novak_, Castiel amended – into pieces. The vengeance of Heaven was a doubled-edged sword and the pain was bittersweet: the ultimate pain and the ultimate peace.

His soul and his Grace fled his mortal vessel at once and then he found himself facing Raphael on a separate plane of existence. Castiel felt his true form, free of mortal boundaries, stretch its wings and divine power flooded into his limbs as he faced down his Heavenly brother.

Raphael's true visage was, as it always had been, awe-inspiring. The Archangels always were. This was, after all, one of four angels in all of creation who had seen the face of God.

Castiel faced the Archangel with a courage he didn't know he possessed. In this plane of existence, he felt no fear. He had done the right thing. This he believed with all of his being. He stood tall and proud as he faced Raphael and then Raphael spoke,

"Castiel." That one word was instantly humbling, and Castiel felt his arrogant disobedience drain away from him, felt that one single word, flooded with power, crush his pride to dust. He had tested the wrath of Heaven once before, had been laid bare before his brothers and his sisters and set right about where his loyalties lay, but his return to Earth had broken him again and Raphael was now the diving hand of justice.

Castiel sought to escape the Archangel's visage but power and authority commanded his gaze to remain. Raphael's holy light filled their current plane of existence, throwing their shadows into sharp relief upon the clouds.

"You have disappointed us." Raphael thundered, his true voice loud and the power of it unmistakable. "We had hoped you had seen the errors of your ways," he looked at Castiel with something like disapproval. "It seems we were mistaken."

There would have been a sneer in his voice had he been human but as it was the Archangel's voice held no emotion and it was all the more terrifying for it.

"I have learned my lesson, Raphael." Castiel admitted with a nod of respect. "But now it's time you learned yours." At any other time he would have been appalled for his gall, but if he was going to die, he might as well try to get his brother to see reason.

Raphael's face was a hard mask of angelic indifference, but his eyes were burning. "You are insolent, Castiel." He warned. "This has gone too far, brother. This is more than we can forgive."

"You or God?" the words left Castiel's mouth without his knowledge, but he didn't stop to take them back. It was too late now for redemption anyway. He realized with a quiet sense of awe, after the obedient soldier in him cringed at his blasphemy, that he was speaking his mind.

"Enough." Raphael ordered and again Castiel was humbled by the power radiating in his voice. But this time his eyes remained fixed stubbornly on the Archangel. He saw only sorrow in that face.

"You are aware you are crossing a line, Castiel, and yet you continue to disrespect. You are close to Falling now, as you well know." His eyes hardened, daring, pleading with his brother to reconsider his course of action.

Castiel was aware of a sharp pain in his soul that told him all Raphael said was true. As if he didn't already know exactly where he stood.

"I know," he said quietly. _I'm sorry. _

The sorrowful look on Raphael's face melted away to reveal the stern countenance of a warrior of God.

"You are following in Lucifer's footsteps, Castiel." Raphael said. "We have lost many to his sins, along with Anael and Uriel's defection." He stared hard at Castiel who flinched under the weight of that stare. "We will not lose another." His voice carried the verdict. "You are my brother, Castiel." Raphael lamented, "I am sorry it had to end this way."

"No," Castiel said "You're not." The words sounded familiar to him.

Raphael graced him with a surprised look before a gleaming silver sword alight with the fury of Heaven materialized in his hand. The Archangel's eyes sought Castiel's as he plunged the fiery blade into the younger angel's heart.

"Goodbye, brother. You will be missed."

_tbc._

_

* * *

**A/N: Review for more! **  
_


	3. TAG, Lucifer Rising part II

Title: Rebirth

Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Raphael, mentions of Dean, Zachariah, Lucifer/none

Warnings: none, spoilers for 5.01 if you haven't seen it.

Disclaimer: I can dream, but in the end they don't belong to me.

* * *

"_Goodbye brother, you will be missed."_

Raphael's blade pierced his chest but the pain was not concentrated in one specific area, the righteous fire spread through his being and burned away at his Grace – a slow and agonizing process that would have led Castiel the mercy of divine justice if he was still able to think.

It may have lasted seconds, or even days, but eventually his grace was spent and with it the last spark of his consciousness and then he was finally wrapped in the blissful unfeeling embrace of death.

His last thought was, _Dean was right. I have done the right thing. Father will understand. _

And then there was nothing. Castiel, angel of the Lord, was no more.

But time passed – he didn't know how much, and suddenly he was _there_ again. One moment he was writhing in pain as his grace burned away, as his very essence ceased to exist, and then there was light.

_And God said 'Let there be Light'. _

It was a blinding all-encompassing light that banished every shadow, burning brighter and hotter than the Archangel's holy fire and bathing Castiel in its warmth. That was his first sensation.

And then there was pain.

The pain was indescribable; equal parts agony and ecstasy. It was as though something unbelievably powerful was knitting his soul back together. Castiel did not remember this sensation; it was very unlike the trembling sweetness which had first borne him into Being with God's word. But the overwhelming sense of power that came with his Remaking washed over Castiel, who found himself speechless, equally torn between awe and terror.

His Grace slowly restored itself, curling warmly at his center like a molten heart and beating angelic power through his being, healing and fixing and putting him back together in a way he hadn't thought possible after such destruction.

And then clarity struck him. He was alive again, remade and whole but for the sudden, terrifying silence ringing in his ears.

He couldn't hear his brothers. He couldn't hear the choirs of Heaven or the low static of collective angelic voices that had always been such a solid and muted presence in his mind that he had taken them for granted. And now they were gone.

Castiel felt suddenly very much alone.

He spent a long moment in panic, trying in vain to reach for the presence of the other angels, for the warmth and safety and comforting familiarity of their voices in his mind but they remained just out of his reach.

It struck him then with such a force it sent him reeling: he was cut off from Heaven. That one golden thread that had always been drawn between himself and his Father's kingdom was severed. The thought was so devastating that he froze for a long moment, unable to think clearly or at all. But the moment passed and he found himself wondering vaguely of how long it had been since his destruction. Time in Heaven, as in Hell, was very different then on Earth.

Thoughts of Earth and his time there brought everything flooding back to him in a burning rush: Dean Winchester, his demon-blooded brother, Lilith, Zachariah, the Apocalypse.

Lucifer.

He needed to get back. The sudden fierce determination of this one thought blew away all other uncertainties. He left the celestial plane with a powerful beat of his newly restored wings and found himself on Earth a few moments later.

The moment he stepped onto the Earthly plane, still in his spiritual form as he had yet to find a host, he knew Dean Winchester had failed.

Lucifer was free.

It was a subtle taint in the air that hummed with his Fallen brother's immense power; dark power that could only come from the Morning Star. Determination washed through him again, his mind centered solely on one thing as he concentrated on finding a material body.

_Dean Winchester. _

He needed to find the Winchesters, to learn what had happened while he had been…away. Castiel concentrated, fixing his mind on the thin thread of fate that had connected him to Dean ever since he had descended into the bowels of Hell to pull him free.

He opened his eyes to find himself miraculously rooted in Jimmy Novak's body and he could feel the slight stirring of the man somewhere deep in his subconscious, drowsy, weak, but there. And then he stalked into the room where Zachariah and the Winchesters looked at him in astonishment.

"_Let them go!"_

_fin._

_

* * *

_**A/N: The end of this particular tag. I actually thought of this one because I was wondering if Cas had just gotten back by the time he showed up to confront Zach. My mind stuck to the idea that Cas had just gotten back to Earth when he'd shown up and so that's what I went with. Also, I believe Jimmy is still alive somewhere in there. It might just be wishful thinking but I don't care. I love jimmy. (: Anyway, the next drabble will be for a different episode entirely. It should be up soon. Reviews are love! **


	4. TAG, Changing Channels

Title: The Luck of the Irish

Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Patrick/none

Warnings: spoilers for 5.07 and 5.08 if you haven't seen them.

Disclaimer: Not mine, dammit.

I love Patrick. (:

--

Patrick sat in an obsecure bar in some shady town he hadn't bothered to remember the name of and was watching the TV with a faint air of amusement. Once the commercial spot had ended, he found himself clapping in approval, ignoring the curious looks the other bar patrons tossed his way.

"Well done, Sammy. Well done."

&&

Sam was still stuck in the embarrassing world of a genital herpes commercial, slouched with his arms folded protectively over his chest. He glared at the people who walked past him, some of them smiling and some even, to his horror and Dean's utter amusement, congratulating him on a job well done.

Dean would never let him live this down. Never, ever.

"Great job, kiddo!" A beaming old man in khaki shorts and a purple sweatshirt called to him as he passed. Sam just slouched over further and glared hatefully at his feet.

"You did a great job, Sammy! Very nice." Dean's smug voice reached his ears and he turned his glare on his brother.

"Shut it."

"Hey, hey," Dean held up his hands in a placating gesture and gave him a wide-eyed look that was anything but innocence. "The first step is admitting you have a problem, Sammy." He said with mock serious, but Sam could see his lips twitch to fight off a smile.

Jerk. He was going to kill him.

But first, he was going to kill the Trickster.

Sam heard a slow, leisurely clapping sound from behind him and he didn't even bother turning around to glare at Dean. "Dude," he said with annoyance. "Cut it out."

"Cut what out?" Dean said. "I'm not doing anything."

Yeah, right.

Sam whirled around to find his brother frowning at him, standing there with the basketball tucked loosely under one arm.

"I'm not doing anything." That innocent tone again. Sam wasn't going to fall for it. Not this time.

"Uh-huh." He said skeptically, narrowing his eyes at Dean until the older hunter gave him a weird stare.

"What?" Dean groused. "Dude, I wasn't doing anything."

"You were clapping!" Sam snapped irritably.

Dean just gave him that weird look again. "No," he said after a moment, completely serious. "I wasn't."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." He frowned. "You sure you're okay, Sammy?"

Sam felt a sudden breeze brush over him and he shivered through the thin material of his sweatshirt, surprised at how cold the air was. But the air was charged with an unmistakable hint of power that left goose bumps on his arms. Then he blinked and looked over at Dean in surprise.

"You feel that?"

"Feel what?" Dean asked.

"The…nevermind." It wasn't worth the trouble explaining, besides, Dean would probably just laugh at him again. His body was wracked with shivers for a moment and they were so strong his teeth chattered. And then they stopped and something felt …different.

Sam took a moment to figure out what it was. His brow furrowed in concentration as he thought and then he broke out into a slow smile.

"What?" Dean asked, noticing the change.

"It's…gone." He said with a significantly lighter tone.

"Huh?" Dean said intelligibly. "What's gone?" He looked around them as though searching for what could be missing. Wacko, genital herpes commercial set? Check. Wacko people _with_ genital herpes? Check. Basketball? Check. He looked back up at Sam in confusion.

"The…you know," Sam mumbled uncomfortably, making a vague gesture with his hands. He wasn't going to say it again. Never. He'd had enough embarrassment over it in the past few minutes to last him two life times.

Dean kept his face carefully blank. "What're you talking about Sammy?" His voice was carefully controlled innocence.

Sam didn't fall for it. "You just want to hear me say it again, don't you?" he dead-panned. He watched in amusement as the innocent façade shattered and Dean shot him an affronted look.

"Who, me?" he said and then scowled at his brother's unamused stare. "Fine," he grumbled. "Ruin my fun, why don't you." And then he sobered up. "Wait, seriously? It's like…gone? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Dean glanced around dubiously. "You think the Trickster could've…?"

Sam shrugged. "Beats me."

"Or maybe," Dean continued with a wolfish grin. "It was the 'luck o' th' Irish." He chimed in a high falsetto Irish accent. Sam gave him a pained look and rolled his eyes.

The sound of clapping echoed through the air and Dean shot a look at Sam in surprise. "You hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" Sam gave him a puzzled look.

Dean was about to snap at him to quit joking when he suddenly went pale and locked his legs together with a strangled gulp. A beat of silence passed and then Dean tilted his head to the sky and shouted,

"You son of a bitch!"

_fin. __

* * *

_**A/N: Oh it was begging to be written. Besides, I loved Patrick. I felt so bad for him at the end of 5.07 and after watching 5.08 I decided he needed some cheering up. I hope he comes back some time. The Winchesters could use a man-witch on their side. A _900 year old_ man-witch.**


End file.
